


The Cruelest Cut

by Ripki



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst and Feels, Canon Rewrite, Clone Wars, Complicated Relationships, Confrontations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ripki/pseuds/Ripki
Summary: An alternative take on Clone Wars episode 4.22 “Revenge”. What if instead of Ventress, it was Anakin who showed up to help Obi-Wan? In other words, our boys fight some monsters and then annoy the hell out of each other.





	1. A Nightmare from the Past

**Author's Note:**

> As this is an alternative take on Clone Wars episode 4.22 “Revenge”, some dialogue has been taken straight from the episode. Also, writing fight scenes is hard!

Raydoria is burning. The soft illumination of the glowing trees is overtaken by the hot reds and deep yellows of hungry flames; the gentle dusk is overshadowed by the thick black of acrid smoke. The settlement is in ruins and Obi-Wan knows, even before he lands his ship, that the only one left alive in the village is the monster waiting for him.

_Maul._

But how can it be? How could Maul be alive? Obi-Wan had thought so once before, but had been quickly proven wrong. Although the one known as Savage Opress had been unhinged and dangerous, filled with explosive hatred, he had been a menace wholly separate from the long vanquished Sith apprentice. Still, even now, any Zabrak drags to the forefront of his mind that cursed name, however illogical or unjust it may be.

He hasn’t far to go; the road, littered with bodies and lined with gutted houses, ends with the burning heap of destruction. Atop stands the monster. 

_Maul._

In an instant, Obi-Wan is back in the generator complex, staring at the hated face of his adversary through the red laser barrier. The smell of burnt flesh, the furious beat of his heart, the emptiness in the Force – for a moment there is nothing else. His Master dies again. He is alone.

And then the laser field lifts and Obi-Wan is back in the destroyed village, finding no other words but a wondering, “It _is_ you.” He examines the smoldering eyes, the lean red-black upper body, the grotesque metal legs. The creature before him has been broken utterly, has been stitched up with hate and darkness into jagged pieces of flesh and machine. 

“You may have forgotten me, but I will never forget you. You cannot imagine the depths I would go to to stay alive, fueled by my singular hatred for you.” There is a manic gleam in Maul’s eyes, a fury so deep it is a weapon in itself – it seeks to burn Obi-Wan to the core, yearns to suffocate all the Light from the Force. 

But wherever hellhole Maul has spent the last decade, whatever horrors he has subjected himself to or been subjected to, he is not the only one to change. Obi-Wan Kenobi is now a Jedi Master and a General of the Republic, has fought years against darkness, has seen and felt torment and anguish. He is Padawan no more, and neither is he truly alone; he never really was. The Force is all around him, in him. 

And so it is with confidence and calmness he says, “That may be so, but I defeated you before, and I can defeat you again.” He ignites his lightsaber, moving into a fighting stance. No other world will burn; no more lives will be taken by the Zabrak monster. Obi-Wan will not allow it. 

Maul laughs, sharp and terrible. “Don’t be so certain.” 

A flicker of movement, a falling shadow, and another monster drops behind Obi-Wan. The hulking form of Savage Opress shocks him; his surprise reverberates through his mind even as Obi-Wan defends against the beast’s ferocious attack. He knows he is at severe disadvantage: Opress is a brutally strong fighter and Maul is now somewhere behind him, ready to strike. 

It does not take long. Unbalanced, he is struck to the ground, his lightsaber pulled from him. Before darkness, the bitter sense of failure, one last stray thought _I am sorry_ –

\--

The stars streak past, blurring into a silvery light. Anakin wills the machine around him to hurtle onwards faster, but no amount of speed is fast enough. The guilt-heavy feeling of _urgency_ and _wrongness_ only increases with every moment he has to spend alone in the cockpit of his fighter, racing to catch up to Obi-Wan. Even the relief at finally arriving in Raydoria cannot lessen the fury Anakin feels at being left behind once again. Obi-Wan is confronting his own personal hell alone, and everything about the situation is wrong and alarming and utterly _maddening_. 

He reaches towards their bond, but the Force is clouded and the strands connecting them lay in a confusing tangle. _Master_ , he tries, and for one heart-stopping moment there is only terrible emptiness, and then, _I am sorry_ – and nothing else. 

Anakin lands with a little too much speed next to Obi-Wan’s vessel, jumping out of the cockpit before the engines have been shut down. He tells R2 to guard the ships, but doesn’t wait for affirmation, running towards the village. His Master is there, and – as usual – in trouble. He doesn’t care to count what the tally will be in his favor after this latest rescue. 

Almost too late, Anakin arrives to see the hulking cargo ship lift up, knowing instinctively what he has to do. With ease he gathers the Force to him and jumps atop the hull, even as the transport gains more speed and altitude. Surely it says something of his chosen profession that this isn’t the first time – or the second or the third – he has to board a ship that is already in flight. 

With the help of his lightsaber, Anakin forces his way inside the beat-up starship, every sense seeking for the slightest noise, the smallest sign of life. He doesn’t have to search for long; the sounds of raised voices, pained grunts and general rattle and clatter point him towards one of the ship’s large cargo holds.

Despite the ever pressing urgency, Anakin knows he needs to find the most advantageous position possible. He finds one on a catwalk high above the cargo hold floor. What he sees below is enough to freeze his blood. The hideous red-black face from his childhood nightmares stalks above Obi-Wan, who lies beaten and weaponless. The Zabrak grins darkly, sure in his victory. 

Anakin met Maul only briefly, but he remembers this dark menace, this burning hate. He has seen the yellow eyes and the black-clad body, frighteningly powerful, in countless dreams. Can recall with perfect clarity Qui-Gon’s confident assurance, _we’ll handle this_. He remembers the aftermath. 

“Anything more to say?” Maul snarls, and Anakin is already thinking, _well you asked for it_ , when Obi-Wan answers flippantly, “I like your new legs. They make you look taller.” Anakin cannot help the swell of fondness or the flush of pride: this is his Master. Undaunted and uncowed, an absolute _irritant_ even in the face of insurmountable odds. 

Maul is not amused. The Zabrak lifts Obi-Wan up to his feet with the Force, and grips his jaw and cheek with bruising strength. “I will make sure you stay awake long enough to feel every _single cut_. Your death will be beyond excruciating. You will suffer as I have suffered!” The red blade of his saber is dangerously close to Obi-Wan’s face.

It is time to act. There is no way – _none_ – that the raving lunatic is laying a single cut on Obi-Wan. Maul’s lightsaber is only inches away from his Master’s flesh, but Anakin has the element of surprise on his side, and surely, Obi-Wan has already felt his presence. Together, they can defeat the monster from their past.

Suddenly, the door to the cargo hold slides open. Another familiar Zabrak steps inside and Anakin curses silently and profusely. Things just got a whole lot more difficult. 

\--

Just as Obi-Wan, dangling from a Force-choke hold, in the mercy of two maniacal beasts, thinks that _things could not be worse_ , the universe decides to prove him wrong. Anakin Skywalker lands lightly on his feet behind Savage Opress, lightsaber already ignited, managing to surprise everyone in the cargo hold as is his wont. 

For one breathless, minuscule moment, Obi-Wan is precariously torn between two equally strong emotions. Relief wars with trepidation; Anakin’s rash rescue attempt evens out the playing field, but raises the stakes hundredfold. 

Anakin wastes no time for glib one-liners, attacking Savage Opress without hesitation, the Zabrak barely managing to block the first two powerful strikes. Instinct and countless hours of practice has already made Obi-Wan act: he pushes Maul away with an almost-desperate Force-push and jumps to his feet assessing the situation. He needs a weapon – and sooner rather than later. 

Anakin and Opress continue to trade blows, red and blue lightsabers clashing; Anakin’s forceful offence has tapered off into a disturbingly evenly matched fight. The yellow-black Zabrak manages to throw Anakin hard against a pile of cargo boxes, advancing quickly upon him. Without thinking, Obi-Wan takes hold of a nearest box with a Force and hurtles it violently against Savage Opress, knocking the beast temporarily down. 

On the opposite side of the room, Maul has already pushed himself back to his metal appendage-feet, and he charges at Obi-Wan at full speed, snarling with rage. Obi-Wan raises his hands, gathers the Force, pushing against the attack, but the red blade storms ever closer –

“Master!” The hate-red blade is met with brilliant-blue; Anakin has swooped in to counter the attack. The lightsabers lock and the Zabrak and the young Jedi push against each other; Anakin’s expression is a perfect match for Maul’s with its fierce grit and blazing ire. 

“I know _you_ ,” Maul barks, mocking. “So the measly slave-pup became a Jedi?”

“Yeah, and this time it is _my pleasure_ to cut you in half!” Anakin growls, separating the blades with a brutal push. Obi-Wan jumps out of their way, chest suddenly too tight, and in the corner, the other monster is already rising and soon they will be in an indefensible position… 

A familiar lightsaber glints at Maul’s back, beckoning. With something a lot like gratitude, Obi-Wan draws his lightsaber from Maul with the Force, the feel of the weapon in his hands a surety he shouldn’t need. He ignites the blade none too soon, meeting the furious blow of Savage Opress just in time to block it inches from his face. The blazing eyes in the yellow-black face meet his own with obvious contempt, but the feeling is _wholly mutual_. Obi-Wan grins darkly – and puts his lightsaber skills into good use.

The fight takes them from one end of the cargo hold to the other and back again, the exchange of brutal blows favoring neither party. It’s hard work, frankly harder than Obi-Wan has gotten used to lately. Slicing simple battle droids and other war machines is not really adequate practice for a proper, all-out, no-holds-barred lightsaber fight. _We’ll have to make time for sparring again_ , Obi-Wan thinks, just as Anakin swirls past him, landing in a tangle of limbs against the wall. 

With three steps Obi-Wan is in front of Anakin, meeting the hard strikes of two red blades. The Zabraks try to make the best of the sudden upper hand they have gotten, pushing mercilessly forward, until Obi-Wan is hard pressed to defend against both of them. 

“Anakin!” He grunts, hoping the boy isn’t out for the count, for then they are _really_ in trouble…

“Here.” The voice is tight with pain, but so incredibly welcome, and then Anakin is standing shoulder to shoulder with him, his blue blade like a twin of his own, and Obi-Wan cannot help but smile in grim delight. 

For a moment they fight as one, easily driving their opponents backwards, every movement a known part of familiar dance. They go from defense to offence, their blades forming one weapon with one mind, giving their enemies no quarter. It feels dangerously close to perfection.

It cannot last. 

The moment breaks, and Obi-Wan finds himself up in the catwalk, confronting Maul alone. The nightmare from his past reborn anew. The urge to end the fight – _to end Maul_ – verges on overwhelming. 

“Your master, Qui-Gon Jinn – I gutted him while you stood helpless and watched. How did that make you feel, Obi-Wan?”

A haze of red settles over his vision; with a snarl Obi-Wan rushes to meet Maul, beating him back with uneven, vicious strikes. Maul doesn’t get to speak Qui-Gon’s name, _crow_ about his butchery. The frenzy of his attack is soon over however, when Maul gets the upper hand and kicks Obi-Wan forcefully against a wall. 

“That boy – your apprentice – I’m going to gut him too, bleed him dry slowly while you’ll get to watch.” 

Obi-Wan grimaces as the force of Maul’s strike reverberates through his arms, seeking to shatter every bone. He pushes firmly back and then they are engaged in a perverse, deadly tug of war with the Force. Faintly, through the screech of the lightsabers’ and the pounding of his own heart, he can hear the other two somewhere below: the brutal sounds of battle, the movement of fighting bodies, but Obi-Wan cannot break his concentration even for the smallest of moments to see how Anakin is doing.

“Your rage has unbalanced you. That is not the Jedi way, is it?”

Maul is impossibly strong; Obi-Wan feels his arms straining beyond endurance, the sweat running in rivulets down his face. He gathers the Force for one final push, hurtling it towards his opponent with all his remaining strength. Their lightsabers break apart with a burst of blue lightning and thunder, flinging both the Zabrak and Obi-Wan violently in opposite directions. 

Obi-Wan crashes down into the cargo hold floor, dazed, everything in him hurting. For a moment, it seems too hard to get to his feet – then Anakin is at his side, tugging anxiously at his shoulder.

“Master?” His brow is scrunched up in worry. “Get up!” Obi-Wan has a sudden flash of small hands tugging at his robes, impatient to get going, to see everything new and wondrous… 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin half drags, half lifts him to his feet, the urgency in his voice dispelling the last of the confusion from Obi-Wan’s mind. He blinks and as his eyesight settles he can see the Zabraks grunting, gathering their strength and picking themselves up from the floor. Their opponents are far from beaten. With a sinking heart Obi-Wan knows what they have to do. 

They cannot win this fight. They can only try to survive.


	2. A Kiss with a Fist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is taken from the song of the same name by Florence + The Machine. Also, this became much more angsty than I anticipated. But that's our boys..

The fight is far from over – Maul and his twisted companion are only momentarily stunned, already snarling like raving beasts as they start to rise from the cargo hold floor. Anakin tries to center himself to meet the next exchange of blows and strikes, but as always, the Force is a heady rush of excitement and impatience, egging him on.

Anakin grips his ignited lightsaber tighter. He is going to make Maul pay for Qui-Gon’s death, for every pain the monster has caused Obi-Wan. For every nightmare Anakin ever had about him. 

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice is strained; his hand comes to briefly rest on Anakin’s shoulder. “We’re outmatched.”

“You want to _run_?” How can they let Maul win? How can they let the Zabraks continue to terrorize the galaxy? 

“We have to go – _now_ Anakin!” Maul and Savage are already up; Anakin has no choice but to follow Obi-Wan through the cargo hold door to a short corridor that leads to the cockpit. They close the first door just in time – a second later a red blade is plunging through it, hissing and sparking. 

Getting into the cockpit, Anakin wastes no time in sealing the cabin and detaching it from the main hull of the ship. Separating from the rest of the vessel, they pick up more speed as the hulking body is left behind. Anakin turns to watch the grotesque faces of their adversaries through the window in the door, their horrid grimaces receding until the main hull of the Turtle Tanker is just a speck in black space. 

“You do know it is not over? They’ll be after us both now.” Obi-Wan slumps into the copilot’s seat, sounding resigned and weary. That tone of voice from Obi-Wan always makes Anakin feel small, which in turn raises his hackles and gets him on the defensive. 

“ _I_ wanted to finish the fight,” Anakin says through gritted teeth as he changes the ship’s course.

“They would have rather finished _us_ ,” Obi-Wan points out dryly – quite unnecessarily in Anakin’s opinion. “Where are we going?”

“Back to Raydoria. I’m not leaving R2 or my fighter behind.” Not to mention Anakin doesn’t want to spend the entire trip back to Coruscant alone with his Master in the Turtle Tanker’s control cabin, which is little more than an escape pod. 

The small space already feels _minuscule_ ; Anakin doesn’t take the pilot’s seat, but retreats to the other side of the cabin – not even two yards from the control panel. Now that they aren’t fighting for their lives, he wants to punch Obi-Wan. Or at the very least yell at him until his voice is hoarse and all his pent-up anger and frustration are mere air between them. 

But the words don’t come; they are too painful to voice. Or maybe it is Obi-Wan’s answers that he doesn’t want to hear. 

His Master sighs deeply, closing his eyes – probably asking the Force for more patience to deal with his former Padawan. Obi-Wan should have left Anakin behind, if his presence is such an annoyance. After all, that is the new norm. 

Obi-Wan opens his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Everything in Anakin aches; a couple of his ribs are at the very least fractured. 

“Your forehead is bleeding.” Obi-Wan rises from his seat, turning towards Anakin. His face is a mix of gentle admonishment and familiar worry. 

Anakin turns his gaze through the window to the nothingness of space, fingers fumbling for the wound on his forehead, coming away red. He hadn’t even noticed that he was bleeding. “It’s just a cut.” 

“You’ll make a mess,” Obi-Wan says and raises his hand towards Anakin as if to wipe the blood away. Without thinking, Anakin halts the movement by grabbing Obi-Wan’s wrist in a hard grip. His heart is hammering rapidly, like in a freefall. Beneath the glove and vambrace are delicate carpal bones – once Anakin broke all eight on his left wrist. Now he wants to squeeze and press until Obi-Wan _feels_ it in his bones, deep within. 

His Master raises his eyebrows and purses his lips into a tight line, challenging and never giving an inch, so _typical_ Obi-Wan, that something in Anakin cracks. He pulls and pushes, managing to take Obi-Wan by surprise, slamming him into the bulkhead. Anakin crows into him, still keeping a tight hold on the wrist. 

All the unspoken things between them since the Rako Hardeen deception, all the silences since the whole damn war, even before that – they seek a voice, clamor for release. He wants to shout, _you let me believe you were dead!_ Instead Anakin grabs Obi-Wan’s face, seeking his lips. It’s half a bite, half a kiss. Savage, desperate, brazen. It’s a challenge and an apology both. It’s perfection.

And just one more thing they don’t talk about.

\---

The kiss lasts eight beats of his heart.

When Anakin retreats a mere inch away, he leaves Obi-Wan with a bruised cheek and a cut lip. It takes a moment for Obi-Wan to realize that although Anakin has finally relinquished his crushing hold on his wrist, Obi-Wan’s own fingers have grabbed the front of Anakin’s tabards, keeping him close. They are breathing heavily, sharing the same air. 

Anakin’s eyes are lowered, so Obi-Wan can only see the outline of the familiar nose and jaw, the tousled fringe of his damp hair. The red streak of blood on his cheek. He doesn’t need to meet his friend’s gaze to see the absolute mess of stormy emotions pulling Anakin apart. He can _feel_ it. 

When Obi-Wan lets go, his lip is still smarting. He tastes blood. 

Anakin takes a step backward and turns away, the quiver in his broad shoulders almost imperceptible. For a long minute, Obi-Wan stares at his Padawan’s back helplessly, not daring to speak or move for fear of doing something there would be no coming back from.

After a moment that stretches endlessly across space, silent and tense, Anakin lowers himself to the floor, resting his back against the bulkhead. His tired eyes meet his Master’s, and Obi-Wan can breathe freely again. 

“You should have told me you were going after Maul.” Although the worst of the outburst might be over, there is still fight left in Anakin, in his biting words and steely expression. If Obi-Wan had been so foolish as to think the matter had been laid to rest, the mere tone of his friend’s voice would have proven otherwise. 

“You were in Sullust. You _should be_ in Sullust.” Obi-Wan knows the excuse is weak even as he speaks; no time or distance has ever kept them from coming to each other’s aid when needed. 

“Rex can handle that in his sleep,” Anakin scoffs. “You know who told me where you had gone? Yoda! Because, _again_ , you could not be bothered to tell me.”

“Maul is my responsibility.” That is the fundamental truth that Obi-Wan will never escape. He and the Zabrak are linked together by an intricate web of past, present and future, the strands dark and rotten from revenge, pain and fear. 

“Oh, and I guess that monster had no effect on my life?” 

If Maul had not killed Qui-Gon…If Obi-Wan had been a little quicker…If…Obi-Wan ruthlessly disperses the familiar haunting _what-ifs_ – what is, _is_. Obi-Wan was not fast enough. Maul killed Qui-Gon. And now the monster is back from the dead, bringing forth new nightmares and terrors. The last thing he wants, is Anakin to be anywhere near Maul, but Obi-Wan knows better than to say that aloud. 

So he says nothing, just takes a seat on the hard floor, opposite his friend. 

“You don’t trust me.” Anakin sounds desolate. “You have never trusted me.”

“That’s not true.” Old frustrations rear their head again. This topic is far from new and Obi-Wan is so, _so_ tired of having it again. “I trust you with my _life_.”

“Yeah. Just not with anything else.”

“And you tell me everything?” Obi-Wan challenges, irritated. In this, Anakin is such a hypocrite.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anakin’s eyes narrow.

“I know where you spend your nights.” It comes out a lot more vindictive than he means it to sound, but Obi-Wan is too incensed to censor himself, to pull back from the one thing they absolutely will not talk about. Ever. 

“ _Don’t_.” It’s a plea, and also a threat. 

It does not work. For once, Obi-Wan doesn’t let it work. “Why not? If there is to be no secrets between us? No deception?”

Anakin’s eyes shift to the control panel, up and then to the side, anywhere but Obi-Wan. The small cockpit is filled with silence, heavy and thick. Obi-Wan doesn’t know when things changed so irrevocably between them; when they came to be so at odds with each other, so far apart even when there is only a few yards separating them. Certainly after the Rako Hardeen mission, but no, even before – 

Anakin’s evasive gaze settles, comes to rest on Obi-Wan’s face. He looks at Obi-Wan, resolute and defiant. “Alright. So you know and I won’t deny it. What now?”

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan says, tired all of a sudden beyond measure. He will never tell the Council of Anakin’s improper relationship with Padme Amidala. It’s something that Anakin should already know by now. 

“Nothing,” Anakin repeats quietly and then nods, like the whole thing is settled, just like that. And maybe it is. 

Obi-Wan tips his head back against the hard steel, closing his eyes. Soon they will be back on Raydoria. They will look for survivors of the massacre, burn the bodies left rotting, give whatever aid they can to those who remain. And then they will leave the planet and its people and fly back into war, towards other destroyed settlements, other mutilated bodies. 

“I don’t want you to ever leave me behind again.” Anakin’s voice is quiet, but firm. “Promise me.” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t open his eyes, when he wearily, unwillingly answers, “That would not be true.” 

“Then tell me something true,” Anakin demands. 

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and looks at his Padawan. “I don’t want you to leave me behind either.” It’s a truth closely guarded, a secret years kept. And now it is a shared wish – an impossible, childish wish. For they both know that someday, one of them will have to leave the other behind. Someday. 

“There’s blood on your face. You look a right mess,” Anakin tells him bluntly and then smiles widely. Obi-Wan finds himself smiling back.


End file.
